


Lonely Drunk

by sharkneto



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Luther Is a Good Brother, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy-centric, POV Luther Hargreeves, Sibling Bonding, Underage Drinking, five says with alcohol, he's just trying his best, how does he ever actually recover?, i mean in the sense that it is five and he is drinking, i'm of the solid opinion that Five will have a Rough Time when they get to the real world, is this hurt/comfort? angst? five whump? idk but it's a little bittersweet at the very least i think, no beta we die like ben, pogo pops in for his usual job of plot progression, post-everything they're home in the right timeline and apocalypse averted, so many of you are so mean to luther and you can take him from my cold dead hands, wait do i need to tag pogo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkneto/pseuds/sharkneto
Summary: Luther comes home to find Five drunk as a skunk. He just wishes this wasn't such a regular occurrence.OrLuther herds a very drunk Five to bed and has a lot of thoughts while he does it.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 25
Kudos: 136





	Lonely Drunk

Luther shoulders his way through the front doors of the Academy, suitcases in hand, to find the entryway dark. Not totally surprising, given the late hour, but it still gives him pause. He carefully sets his bags down by the table and shrugs his jacket off, looking around for signs of his family.

He’s been gone for the past week at a conference for NASA, of all things, to share his moon research. Dad might have viewed it as worthless but it turns out the scientific community was practically salivating for his data, four uninterrupted years of constant monitoring and samples taken. It was Luther’s first, real trip from the house, that he chose to go on, all by himself. Not counting, of course, all the time travel and alternate timelines they’ve only recently gotten back from.

It felt really, really good.

There’s a familiar tapping and Luther smiles as Pogo hobbles into the entryway. “Master Luther! I thought I heard you in here. Welcome back. I hope the conference went well?”

“It did. Where is everyone?” The silence of the house isn’t anything new to Luther, not after years of being the only one here, but it is weird after the past few months of siblings passing through and living here on a semi-permanent basis.

The old chimp grimaces lightly, “About that. Master Five is the only one here, at the moment, and your timing is fortuitous. He’s, shall I say, over-imbibed tonight and I think could use assistance getting to bed. I have confiscated the remaining alcohol, but I couldn’t, myself, get him to go sleep it off. I was going to wait until your mother finished charging so she could help him, but if you were willing, I think the sooner we can get him sorted the better.”

Luther sighs. They’ve been back, apocalypse officially averted, for four months now. Most of them have fallen back into their old lives or figured out a new routine. Allison regularly flies back and forth from California, almost finished with her court-mandated requirements to get partial custody of Claire. Vanya moved apartments and still plays with her orchestra. Thanks to Five’s timing of getting them back, Diego’s cop friend is still alive and he spends most of his time bothering her. Klaus… Luther actually isn’t sure what Klaus spends his time doing, now, but he flits in and out of the house regularly and appears to be staying mostly sober so whatever it is seems to be working for him.

The exception, of course, is Five. It had taken a while for Five to accept that they really were back, the apocalypse really was off, and no one was coming after them. That had been a stressful few weeks, Five’s paranoia infecting everyone until they were all ready to rip each other’s heads off. Since cautiously accepting that he had achieved his goal of four decades, he’s been lost. Spinning his wheels, unmoored with no set goal to drive towards. Stuck. Some days are better than others, and it seems Luther has come home on a bad one.

“Sure, Pogo, I’ve got him,” Luther says.

Pogo smiles sadly in return, “Thank you, Master Luther. You’ll have to tell me more about how everything went at the conference tomorrow. For now, I shall bid you goodnight.” He hobbles down the hall towards his quarters.

Belatedly, Luther realizes he didn’t ask where he could find Five. There are limited likely spots, Five is a creature of habit, but it’s still a big house. As he runs through the most likely options in his head and where to start, a clatter from the living room catches his attention.

Well, that makes it easy.

Luther walks the few feet over to the door and pauses to get a feel for the situation. Five has dragged the coffee table over to the fireplace and is balanced precariously on it, swaying alarmingly. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, just socks on his feet, which means he hasn’t left the house today. Probably in a couple days, judging by his rumpled appearance, but he’s also drunk so Luther could be wrong about that. He’s heaving at the massive oil painting of himself. The angle he’s at right now guarantees he’ll squash himself with it when he finally gets it off its hanger.

“Hey, Five. Whatchya doing there?” Luther wants to kick himself for how forced his cheer sounds. If Five wasn’t drunk off his ass he’d be giving Luther one of his signature, withering looks over it.

Five clumsily spins around, tilting dangerously as the motion overwhelms his drunk equilibrium but he manages to stay on his perch. His face breaks into a sloppy smile. “Luther!” He’s slurring heavily.

He’s not sure what to do with that. Usually, Five is a surly drunk. Mean, but relatively lax and easy to herd to bed to sleep it off. This happy drunk is new and Luther is wary of it. First things first, though: get Five off the table before he falls off and cracks his head open.

Luther strides over. Five watches him, struggling to track his movement. Standing on the table, he’s Luther’s height, which is weird. Luther dithers for a moment on how to do this before settling on just picking his brother up and depositing him down on the couch. Five is limp the whole time and blinks rapidly as Luther releases him, trying to figure out how he suddenly ended up down there. For good measure, Luther shoves the coffee table back to its spot so Five can’t try and get at his portrait again.

“What were you trying to do with your painting?” Luther asks.

“Hmm?” Five blinks blankly up at him. Luther sighs. Five looks at the empty space on the couch, back at Luther, and then pats the cushion next to him.

Luther feels his expression soften. How can he refuse that invitation when Five is looking at him all small and earnest like that? He sits. His bulk causes Five to tilt into him but Five doesn’t seem to notice, he’s too busy searching around himself with a frown. He turns to Luther. “I had a drink.”

“You drank it.” Or Pogo took it.

“Oh.”

Luther watches Five. He thinks he was wrong; Five isn’t happy drunk. He’s some other drunk he can’t place yet. “Bad day?” he asks.

Five snorts. “All my days are bad days.”

“That’s not true.” Luther racks his brain for a good Five day. They are depressingly few in number. He thinks to his phone conversation with Allison a few days ago, her update before she headed back to California. “You went to see Vanya play a couple days ago, right? That was good.”

“That was good. She had a solo.”

“See? A good day. What about today, what did you do? I bet something else good happened.” Luther feels a little stupid talking to his older, genius brother like this but. He is _really_ drunk and it seems to be working.

“Nothing. Reworked this week’s equation.” At the end of every week, Five redoes the math for how to get back to that point, just in case something catastrophic happens the following week and he needs to quickly jump back and fix it. It’s a depressing hobby none of them have figured out how to get him to stop doing, yet.

Luther frowns, “No one came by?”

Five shakes his head. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning back into the cushions.

Luther thinks he knows what’s wrong. “Have you seen anyone besides Mom and Pogo since Allison left on Tuesday?” That was four days ago.

Five shakes his head again.

“You didn’t go visit anyone?”

“They were busy.”

“No one checked in on you?”

He cracks an eye open at Luther and frowns, “I’m fifty-eight, Luther, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, but you like company.”

Five considers that seriously for a moment. “I do like company.”

Luther sighs. Five isn’t happy drunk. He’s lonely drunk. Five won’t ever admit it but he does really badly on his own. Survival wise, he’s literally unparalleled. But emotionally he goes downhill fast. He likes to constantly know where his siblings are at so he can be sure they’re safe. He doesn’t have the social stamina for long conversations, but quick check-ins, a greeting while passing in the kitchen or hall, quietly reading in the same room as someone else, any proof that they’re all around and he’s not alone are important interactions to him. Luther knows this because, as the only other permanent resident of the mansion, he’s had a lot of them with Five and has learned his patterns.

It explains his uncharacteristic friendliness towards Luther right now. He gets it. After the solitude of the moon, Luther hates being on his own for any longer than a day or two. And that was just after four years; Five had forty.

Luther isn’t sure how much of this Five will remember in the morning. Either way, he doesn’t want to take advantage of his lowered inhibitions. The best course of action is to get Five to drink some water and get him to bed.

Luther moves to get up. He immediately freezes when Five’s tiny hand reaches out for his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to the kitchen to get you some water. I’ll be right back,” Luther says.

Five bonelessly scoots forward in his seat to get up, too. “I’ll go with you. Stupid for you to go all the way there and back.”

Definitely lonely. Luther stands and watches Five clumsily get to his feet.

“Can you walk?” Luther asks.

Five shoots him a sloppy glare. “Of course I can walk.” He immediately veers into the coffee table but manages to catch himself. He glares at the low table like it’s its fault for being there. Maybe it is, a little bit, as he had left it next to the fireplace and Luther moved it back.

It’s slow going to get to the kitchen. Five weaves horrendously as they walk, regularly bumping into Luther. Luther has to reach out with a stupid, too-big hand a couple times to keep him upright when he careens too hard in one direction or another. He’s mumbling to himself, too. He’s too quiet for Luther to make out what he’s saying but it’s another sign that they left him alone too long. When they finally make it, Luther gently shoves Five into a chair. Five obliges good naturedly. His cooperation is weirding Luther out.

Luther finds a glass, fills it at the sink, and sets it in front of Five before taking a seat next to him. Five picks up the water and is about to take a sip when he pauses. “You boiled this, right?” he asks.

“Of course,” Luther lies. Five narrows his eyes as he thinks about that. Luther has done this dance with a drunk Five before. Sometimes he gets a little stuck between now and the apocalypse. “I boiled it earlier and set it aside for you.”

His expression clears and he gulps down a messy sip. Luther watches him chug the glass. His high from the conference is well and truly gone, replaced with a heavy sadness in his gut. He wants to be mad at their siblings for just leaving Five for the week, but it’s not that simple. They’d tried a sort of rotation, at the beginning, until Five got fed up with that and yelled at them about the whole point of him saving them was so that they could go live their lives, not sit around the house pretending to babysit an old man who didn’t need it.

Five is not a good actor but he is very good at hiding behind his façade of irritable genius. He pushes concern off of himself, always quickly redirecting to whatever his brothers or sisters are up to, obliging grumpily when it suits him and launching into a cranky rant when that will work better. It’s been a while since they’ve had a real family meeting about Five, the others might not realize how badly Five is doing. Luther only knows because he sees him every day.

Maybe they need to get him out of the house. Luther has been poking at apartments in the area, unsure if he wants to make that jump or not. He’s almost thirty-two and lived his whole life in his childhood home, excepting the moon and that bit in Dallas. He should move out, but it also feels stupid to do that when there’s this massive house right here all empty and perfectly functional. Five can’t get an apartment, for one because he looks like a child and for two because he can’t live alone. He’d die of alcohol poisoning within a week.

Vanya’s new place has an extra bedroom, maybe she’d be open to letting Five stay for a while. She’s out quite a bit with her orchestra and lessons, though. Diego has practically moved in with his cop friend (girlfriend?), maybe they’d let Five visit for a weekend here or there. Luther genuinely doesn’t know where Klaus stays when he’s not at the Academy, but maybe he actually has a place, too, that they could add to the cycle. A sort of rotating guardianship of their messed up older-younger brother. At least until Five figured out what they were doing and yelled at them, again.

Five clumsily sets the empty glass back down, banging it too loudly on the table. Luther wordlessly gets up and refills it. The more water he can get into Five to try and help wash out all that alcohol, the better. Five blinks in surprise when the refilled glass reappears in front of him. Luther studies him some more as he sips at it, slower now, savoring it. “Have you thought more about that therapist Vanya suggested?” he asks after a long silence.

Five frowns at him, “What for?”

“To talk to. About everything.”

“I talk to you.”

He really doesn’t but Luther smiles at him anyway.

“What would I say to them anyway?” Five continues after a moment, surprising Luther. He’d thought he was too drunk to hold a conversation. “My whole life is a hypothetical, now, Luther. Poof. Gone.” His adolescent voice warbles and cracks as he talks; he’s too far out of it to try and keep it smooth like he normally does. His eyes are very sad and very old and very unfocused.

Luther shrugs, “They might need a minute to wrap their heads around your specifics, but other people have gone through similar things. They could help you figure some things out.”

Five raises a condescending eyebrow. Luther tilts his head in concession that maybe no one has had a life like Five’s. But there’s at least pieces in there that are universal enough, he thinks, that someone could still help him.

Five has gone back to studying his glass of water. His eyelids are heavy and he’s nodding a little bit, starting to doze off. “Ready for bed?” Luther asks. Five hums in agreement. Luther stands and crouches to scoop Five up. There’s no way he’s going to be able to walk himself to his room.

“Wait wait wait,” Five slurs. Luther freezes. Five sets a hand on top of his half-full glass. “We need… a… need to…” Luther patiently waits while Five figures out what he’s trying to say. “Cover,” he finally settles on, proud of himself for remembering the word. “We need a cover. To keep the cockroaches out.” He sloppily looks around the table like there’s going to be one there.

That’s easy enough to do. Luther steps over to a cupboard and digs in it for a minute. He finds what he’s looking for near the back: an old Umbrella Academy thermos. When Five is super drunk like this he loves the merch, especially the pieces with their little cartoon faces on it. It is both incredibly endearing and depressing as hell. He steps back over, carefully pours Five’s water into the thermos, and hands it over for his brother to carry. Five tucks it to his chest, delighted by the thermos and the fact he has clean water.

God, his brother is so fucked up.

Five doesn’t resist as Luther picks him up. He tries to move slow and smooth so that he doesn’t make Five too dizzy and get vomit all over him for his efforts to be a good brother. They make it to the first landing when Five suddenly stiffens. Luther pauses.

“Where’s Delores?” Five asks, face furrowed in worry.

“With her friends, remember?” Luther says. This is another regular Drunk Five Conversation.

Five immediately relaxes. “Oh, right. Good. She doesn’t like it when I drink.”

“None of us like it when you drink, Five.”

Five just hums again and tucks his head against Luther’s shoulder.

They make it to Five’s room and Luther balances Five in one arm as he pulls the sheets back. Carefully, he sets Five down in his bed. He takes the thermos from him and puts it on the bedside table, in easy view and reach for Five.

Five clumsily curls up and grabs at his blankets, pulling them up. He pats at them and then squints up at Luther. “Where’s the good blanket?” he asks. Luther frowns. This is new, off the usual script.

“Which is the good blanket?” he asks.

“The blue one. Knitted. Has that crusty stain but only a few holes.”

Oh. He’s still halfway in the apocalypse. Luther glances around the room for anything to help him out here. Five’s old space quilt Mom made is at the foot of the bed. He grabs it and carefully spreads it over his brother. “I found a new good blanket,” he says.

Five runs his fingers over a quilted rocket ship. “Oh, this is a good one. I had one like it when I was a kid.”

“I know, Five.” Five settles into his pillows and closes his eyes. Luther starts for the door.

“Leaving already?” Five mumbles.

Luther turns back around. Five still has his eyes closed. Still, he steps back over and gingerly sits on the edge of the bed. “No, I can stay for a bit.”

Five hums. Shortly, his breathing grows deep and even. He’s out.

Luther doesn’t leave right away. He just sits and watches his tiny brother sleep for a long time, heart aching. They need to do something for Five, intervene somehow before he spirals too much farther.

He just wishes he knew what that was.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm soft for Luther and Five's relationship; the tol and the smol, the two 'oldest' in the family, both stuck in the wrong body, both so lonely... I could go on and on. Luther has so much potential to be such a good brother if he could just get around Reggie's brainwashing. He'll get there. 
> 
> The usual - no beta so if there's anything wonky going on let me know so I can pop in and edit that up.
> 
> Love to hear your thoughts! Here in the comments or you can drop me a line on tumblr, also at sharkneto.


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